Flesh
We in the last 5 days of these trials & tribulations, and I’m waitin’ for the Lord. Oh please don’t leave me forsaken. Call out for the doom, preparin’ for Satan. So we facin’ the situation while I’m drunk, I’m stayin’ heavily sedatin’. Wonder, will I make it through the Pearly Gates, nigga, or will I burn off in that lake? Now when you feel the earthquake shake and the dead awake. How many waited too late? It’s over now. You niggas had a lack of faith, so life ain’t straight. If you incapable, havin’ a little trouble unable to fuel the soul? Better plead to the bloody Jesus. Watch how the majesty control it and don’t let it go. Hold on, hold on now can I get a witness? Shout Hallelujah! A-Men! I’m feelin’ the Holy Ghost make you move, soothe ya. Soon I’m able to free your mind in the way that my god designed. When I roll, drop dimes. Let’s roll, you’ll find there’s no other like my kind.
Bizzy
Come murder one, come murder one, come murder one, come murder one, murder them all. [*4]
If the world should end today—fully automatic runnin’ through and gunnin’ thangs! Redrum when strummin’ pain. Mo murder, I heard ’em holler, holler, clock dollars. Swallow me baby, cause we bold and hollow-point tips. And I see now enemies keep fallin’. Get ’em up, embalming fluid makin’ me nauseous, cautious. These niggas is flossin’, Nina Ross tossed out on Slawson. It’s for the auction rapper, pop a cop and got gospel on him. Who want a Magnum? Who wanna tag him? Bag ’em up! No problem (baby), bitch! Smoked out in high school, sleepin’ in friends’ cribs. Sellin’ chicken, gotta get paid, we in the kitchen, cookin’ up lle’. Get away, go, go with him. Hold all the muthafuckin’ guns. Let ’em feel it, bust one shot, just split up. Don’t nobody get up or everyone get lit up. And hit up. So help ’em make you sit up (sit up)
Come murder one, come murder one, come murder one, come murder one, murder them all. [*2]
Layzie
Make me push this panic button, nigga we movin’ like the Panthers in the 60’s. Khaki suited, booted, Mo Thugs recruited. You with me, nigga you with me? Militant-minded, perfect timin’ it. Always on it, inclinin’ shit, nigga that’s down for the grind and shit. Keepin’ real niggas rewindin’ this. Deep in the ghetto, in the streets of Cleveland—we call it Thieveland, mind-deceivin’, leavin’ reasons for hustlin’ season. Bottom-line, money is power and the power mean muscle. Money and guns stacked up to the ceiling, nigga get down for his hustle (his hustle, hustle). What nigga, now what ‘cha gon’ do when we come for you? Well, I’ma tell you right now what we goin’ do! Scream, “M-O”, G. And start blastin’, nigga never did like them boys in blue. No regards for authorities, wanna dump a nigga up with the Thorazine? Oh, you invited to the bloody-ass horror scene! Know what I mean, you better get with the team. Position your soldiers. Ready for war, nigga? Keep ‘em way down under! Nigga been waitin’ for the day to let off these rounds—it’s thunder, it’s thunder! I got my mind made up and them niggas straight ballin’ up outta control—testin’ souls, hoes, niggaroes, on a mission tryin’ to get that dough. Separate the minors from pros. Open and close just like a case, place-to-place, through city and state—haters be all up in my face and it just ain’t safe (it just ain’t safe!) I’m knowin’ they want me a casualty of war, boy, boy! I seek and destroy any nigga that throw the decoy. See me on stage rippin’ shit—takin’ off my shirt and breakin’ them sweats. Tattoos all up over my body—"7" on the stomach, skull on my chest. Nine-millimeter in my pocket, ready to buck (buck, buck, buck, buck, buck, buck) on the crowd. It’s always that one lil’ nigga, saggin’ and braggin’ and talkin’ loud. Something about he ‘bout it, ‘bout it. Nigga, I doubt your whole clique. Real niggas don’t run they mouth, real niggas make moves and get rich!
Flesh
Rollin’ in an Expedition, thinkin’ of a proposition, set up my composition. Feelin’ relentless, fuckin’ up your condition. Mo murda competition! How many niggas on the frontline ready for whatever? My nigga with yo TEC-9. Nigga disrespect mine! I win, you lose, the draw, whomever rip through thyne spine. If you wanna listen to what I say, hey, gotta pay your tuition, this ain’t no free exploit of an exhibit ‘cause my niggas—too exquisite. I’m so Armageddon, this is my Smith-n-Wesson. Here’s a nice slug for you and my nitrogen-glyce’ bomb can land on ‘em, nuke ‘em all! Now watch when they all come stormin’ so and one by one—hit ‘em up, they fall! Let off with a little frustration, bust my gun, bullets haul!
Bizzy
Come murder one, come murder one, come murder one, come murder one, murder them all. [*4]